Kajimoto's Strip Club
by Ammeh
Summary: The Tanaka twins have an... interesting idea of what to do for a club fundraiser. [Pairing...um...Wakato and the Tanaka twins trying to be Kajimoto's hos? Also contains other schools]
1. Chapter 1: The Plan

**Author's Notes:** This fic was actually supposed to be all in one chapter, but the writing of it is going…very slowly and somewhat painfully. So I figured it might be more of a motivation if I commit myself to it by posting the first bit.

I know a lot of people hate Jyousei Shounan, but I never really understood why. So I am attempting to spread the Jyousei love by writing them, which is difficult because there's not a fanon standard to base the characterization off, just the bit that's presented in canon. Anyways, I hope this fic inspires people to write more Jyousei pairings, because the only one really out there is Kajimoto/Wakato. Not that I don't like Kajimoto/Wakato, but Kajimoto/the Tanaka twins has so much unexplored potential, as does Kiriyama/Oota(/Kiriyama) and Hanamura-sensei/everybody-but-Shinjou-in-particular. Anyways, I love Jyousei, because they are just so much crack.

**Disclaimer: **Nope. Not mine.

* * *

"…And we can call it, 'Kajimoto's Strip Club'! Wait, where are you going, buchou?"

"I agree with Kajimoto's abrupt disappearance. That's the worst idea I've heard in my life."

Youhei tossed his head, sniffing haughtily. "Good thing no one asked _you_, Shinjou."

Kouhei nodded. "Nobody'd want to watch _you_ anyway. You can be the bouncer with Kiriyama or something."

Shinjou looked around, searching for someone to back him up. However, all he saw was Kiriyama practicing intimidating grunts, while Wakato and Oota teamed up to drag Kajimoto back over.

"C'mon, buchou! It'll be fun! You don't have to dance or anything; you can be our Sugar Daddy! And I can wear a bunch of layers and then when I take one off it'll be like change….OVER! And the girls will all squeal madly, for me, their god."

Oota glanced up at him. "Girls?"

"Yeah, Wakato, what kind of establishment do you think we're running here?" called Youhei.

"None, at the moment, nor will you be if I have anything to say about it," interjected Kajimoto firmly.

"Then say something, buchou. I don't see you coming up with any better ideas."

"A bake sale."

Kouhei looked disgusted. "Yeah, like _that'll_ raise any serious money."

Kajimoto frowned. "You seem to be forgetting we need approval for a fundraiser! A strip club will never go through, so there's no reason for us to be having this discussion in the first place."

The twins smirked simultaneously. "Actually, we already asked Hanamura-sensei," Youhei stated. "She said she supports us all the way. Very enthusiastically."

Kouhei nodded. "She even rented us out a dance studio already. It's got the stage, the mirrors, the lights and the poles, so all we need is the costumes and the bling."

Kajimoto sighed. If Hanamura was involved, there was no way they could get out of it. "What's 'bling'?

"Some American thing that goes with this kind of stuff! I think it's booty from sunken ships. Or party favors. Anyway, if you want to be our Sugar Daddy like Wakato said, you have to wear it!"

"Do you even know how a strip club runs?"

Wakato tugged on his arm impatiently. "Haven't you been listening? You have dancers and stuff, and people come to see them! And you have to have a person at the front to keep out the drunk salarymen, and you serve alcohol."

Kajimoto rolled his eyes. "We _can't_ serve alcohol."

"Pop, then," replied Oota. "I'm sewing costumes, and Hanamura-sensei told me the basics of the dances. That's everything, isn't it?"

Kajimoto chose to remain silent, less out of protest than the fact that he didn't know either.

"I'm pretty sure it is," Wakato said. "Anyways, just leave everything to us, buchou. You won't need to worry about it until opening night!"

"I'll hold you to that."

* * *

Posting the next section as soon as Fated is on to beta it. 


	2. Chapter 2: Opening Night

**Author's Notes:** …Next chapter? Beta-ed by Fatedtofall.

Please note: This fic is factually incorrect in regards to dances and the general management of strip clubs. This is intentional, so don't call me on it or I'll just laugh at you for not reading the author's notes.

Warning: If you really hate crossdressing, you probably won't like this fic.

* * *

Thinking back, Kajimoto decided that perhaps he should have pushed for a later date, preferably after all parties involved were long deceased. He'd been holding on the faint hope that the idea would end up not pulling through. (Though with Hanamura-sensei involved, it was more a pipe dream than anything else.) Now, with the glaring neon sign reading _"Kajimoto's Strip Club" _flashing above his head, any remaining optimism was promptly dashed. Rather viciously. Against sharp pointy rocks. 

Wakato, seemingly oblivious to Kajimoto's distress, ran out and happily tugged him through the door. He had no time to look around before he was immediately beset by the Tanaka twins, who happily began hanging strands of Mardi Gras beads around his neck. He turned beseechingly to Wakato for help as Kouhei began to twine a large rainbow Slinky onto his wrist, only to be betrayed as Wakato gleefully wrapped a slightly sticky paper cape (made entirely out of yellow wrappers with English writing on them) around his shoulders.

"You've got to be just perfect!" crowed Youhei as he clipped a huge, glittery paper ¥ sign to Kajimoto's earring, handing him a plastic scepter of the same design. Once the twins had given him a bit of room to breathe, he scanned the room he was in—and instantly regretted doing so.

The twins were in gauzy, filmy dancing costumes that did nothing to hide the much scantier, sequin-covered outfits they had on underneath. On top of that, they were wearing _make-up_: silver glitter above their eyes, and lipstick matching their hair colors. Kajimoto found it simply _disgusting._ Yes, he did. Definitely. They most certainly were not remotely attractive. _Really_, they weren't! Okay, he was going to stop looking at them now; this was not doing good things for his sanity.

His look at Wakato, however, did not prove to be much better. Wakato was wearing a…decidedly feminine leotard, and was currently being assisted by Oota in the draping of a large number of colorful full-body veils over his person.

"I heard about some Arabic dance that had seven veils, so I figured, if seven was flashy, why not go for _twenty-_seven?"

Kajimoto raised his eyebrows as Wakato's face grew harder and harder to see. "Because they might totally obstruct your vision?"

Wakato shook the bulge where Kajimoto assumed his head to be. "Nonsense, buchou. I can see you clear as day."

"…I'm over here, Wakato."

"Oh, so you are. I think it's a no-go on those last few veils, Oota. We'd better stick with twelve."

When the requested number of veils were removed, Kajimoto squinted at the lump in front of him. He could barely make out the line of Wakato's body. That was most likely, he reasoned, the point of the dance; for the silhouette under the gauze to grow clearer as the layers were removed one by one, until…and even the admittedly ridiculous thought of Wakato yelling "CHANGE OVER!" as he removed each veil could not erase the image from his mind. No, definitely not doing good things for his sanity.

He firmly directed his gaze to Oota, who was clad completely in dark metallic green, blue and purple. With his goggles on and a pair of bobbling alien antennae on his head, he looked like a huge, glittering insect. He was applying fake tattoos to the arms of Kiriyama, who was dressed in biker leather with assorted spiked jewelry. The intimidating effect was somewhat lessened by the fact that the tattoos were along the lines of yellow smiley faces, and that Oota appeared to be using tattoo _band-aids_ where he had run short. To finish it all off, he took a tube of red lipstick, drew a heart on Kiriyama's bicep, and wrote "Okaa-san" in the middle. …This wasn't very good for Kajimoto's sanity either, but in a different way.

The detrimental effect on Kajimoto's sanity was assisted by the fact that as soon as Oota was done with the lipstick, Kouhei grabbed it, pulled up Wakato's veils, and began applying it to him.

"No, don't pucker…like that, open your mouth a little."

Kajimoto firmly told himself that he was _not_ going to look. He stared purposefully at the stage…where Oota was leading Youhei towards one of the poles.

"Do you remember the dance?" Oota asked, making an odd noise that made him seem even more like an insect.

Youhei nodded. "I think so." He hooked his legs around the pole and began…_rubbing_ himself against it in a fashion that made Kajimoto's jaw drop slightly. He was going to look away. He was going to look away in a few seconds. He was going to _look away, **dammit. **_He tore his gaze from the utterly disturbing(really!) sight of Youhei dancing in a fashion that should definitely not be involved in any sort of school activity. Of course, Hanamura-sensei was involved, so that didn't really matter.

Speak of the Devil.

"Kajimoto-kun, why don't you wear this instead?" she crooned, holding up a pair of the shortest shorts Kajimoto had ever seen, and a couple of glittering nipple tassels. She herself was wearing a little more than that, but…only a little.

"Kajimoto-buchou's not dancing, Hanamura-sensei. He's our Sugar Daddy!" called Wakato, sporting bright red lips and now, fake eyelashes.

"Ah. I see then," Hanamura replied, pouting slightly, and then stalking off to observe Youhei's dancing more closely.

"Where's Shinjou?" Kajimoto inquired, almost dreading the answer.

Kouhei looked up from where he was applying rouge to Wakato's cheeks. "He insisted on a _bartending_ outfit. Just because he's tending the bar. I mean, we had a slinky red dress for him and everything! But Hanamura-sensei said it was okay as long as he gave her a lap dance later. She drives a mean bargain, that Hanamura-sensei."

Kajimoto nodded uncomfortably. "I…suppose so."

His makeover done, the lump that was Wakato gestured to a large chair decorated in much the same manner as Kajimoto himself now was. "Go sit there! That's your throne!"

Kajimoto complied, glad that this appeared to be his only task. The twins were flicking the final lights on the switch panel, sending the room into dimness lit by multicolored flashing spotlights. Oota gave Kiriyama the all clear, and the "bouncer"opened the door.

Kajimoto's Strip Club was open for business.

* * *

**Notes:** FINALLY. That took FOREVER to write. Now the fun part starts! People from the other schools visit! Booked to show up so far are: Fuji & Tezuka, Golden Pair, Oshitari & Gakuto, Inui, Nanjiroh, and Sengoku, for various reasons that will be revealed later. (Well, Fuji and Tezuka is at the request of my beta, who hasn't actually seen the series, but thinks Tezuka is really hot, and likes Fuji 'cause he's "sadistic AND fluffy, which makes him mad cool, yo.") 

Anyways, if anyone wants to request other people to show up, they can, because I'm bored. I'll do it if I can think of a reason for them to show up/think I can write them at all decently.

…And now I have to go finish writing this damn thing.


	3. Chapter 3: Golden Pair

**Author's Notes:** Kudos to you if you recognized the Sugar Daddy wrappers in the last chapter! (They're these…hard caramel bars on a stick if you haven't had them.) I forgot to mention that the idea for this fic came from 'Oota/Youhei, Pole' from the Crack Pairing Generator. I don't know quite how it grew into something this big, but oh well.

This chapter feels really...rushed to me, but I just intended it to be a brief appearance... I guess I'm just conflicted?

* * *

"Eiji, I…don't think this is such a good idea."

"Hoi? Why not?"

"Well…it's a _strip_ club."

"But Oishi! You went with me to the strip _mall_ just last week! What's so bad about strips?"

"It's…sort of a different thing, Eiji. I think we're too young to get in here anyway…"

"Nope! I saw the flyer, nya! It said open to all ages! Don't you like dance clubs, Oishi?" Eiji asked, tugging his doubles partner towards the entrance. He stared up at the bouncer, blinking. "I know you! We played against you before! You're from Jyousei, right?"

The bouncer looked down, blinked, and nodded before waving them in.

"Come to think of it, isn't Kajimoto the name of Jyousei's buchou?" Oishi asked. Maybe he'd been wrong about this place after all. He glanced up at the stage. …Or not.

Eiji shrugged. "Look, there's the dance floor!" He tugged Oishi forward, and if Eiji could ignore the short, goggled Jyousei player on stage shimmying up a pole like a fly on the wall, then so could Oishi. Really.

Oishi wasn't quite sure what he was expecting. Whenever they'd gone dancing before, he'd spent the night watching Eiji bounce all over the dance floor (and apologizing to everyone Eiji didn't notice bumping into) while remaining fairly still himself. Whatever he'd been expecting, though, it certainly wasn't for Eiji to put his hands on Oishi's shoulders and scoot closer until there was only a few inches separating them.

Eiji smiled up at his doubles partner, his eyes reflecting a hint of mischief. "Oishi never dances, nya. I have to make sure he doesn't try to baby-sit me, or he won't have any fun."

Oishi blinked. He'd never thought of dancing as particularly "fun," but with Eiji's bangs nearly brushing his forehead, and his hands moving of their own accord to his partner's hips, he supposed that, sometimes, it could be.

**

* * *

**

**Notes:** I'm planning on including Ryoma & Momo now too, because I didn't really talk about Shinjou's bartending earlier, and Ryoma gives me an excuse. No, this is not the end of talk about Jyousei, there will be more Jyousei chapters too. And I'm beginning to wonder if I'm a masochist, considering how hard this fic is to write, yet I just keep planning more.


	4. Chapter 4: TezuFuji

**Author's Notes:** And this chapter is dedicated to my beta, Fatedtofall, without whom it would not exist! To show her your appreciation, go click on my favorite authors and read her stuff. And comment on it. (If you watch Inuyasha, that is.)

She betaed this chapter too, though in this case, I prefer to think of it as "letting her be the first one to read her present."

* * *

"No."

"Yes."

"No. I refuse."

"Pity you've no choice, then."

"I do."

Fuji simply widened his smile as he pulled his buchou forward. "See, we're already here! Wasn't that easy?"

"Fuji, we aren't going in."

"Tezuka, don't tell me you want to be seen publicly refusing to support your rivals! Gossip gets around, you know, it would be awful for your reputation."

"My rivals?"

Fuji turned around and faced Tezuka, still smiling brightly. "Didn't you know? This place is run by Jyousei Shounan. You were in Germany at the time, you wouldn't remember them…but all the more reason to get acquainted with them now, don't you agree?"

Run by Jyousei Shounan or not, Tezuka's personal opinion on the matter was that his reputation would be a great deal more damaged by actually _going_ into a strip club than being seen refusing to. Not that that would matter to Fuji, who seemed able to bend even the laws of society as he needed.

Fuji also would probably find a way to give him hell to pay if he did what he wanted to; that being jerk his arm out of Fuji's grasp, run home, and lock the house. So he allowed Fuji to pull him through the door with only a minimal show of resistance.

Though he'd had some slight hope after learning it was run by Jr. High students, it_ was_, in fact, a strip club. Why had Fuji brought him here in the first place? Surely the tensai did not find this type of entertainment _enjoyable_, but what other reason could he have?

"Look! Eiji and Oishi are already here!" Fuji called, looking inordinately pleased with himself. Tezuka did a double take, but the figures across the room were definitely Seigaku's vice-captain and his doubles partner. And they were dancing, quite closely. Did Fuji bring him here to do _that_?

Loathe as he was to admit it to himself, he would not be exactly adverse to the idea. And Fuji did seem to be tugging him towards the dance floor. Decidedly resigned to the whole affair, he followed. What he was not prepared for was Fuji's deft fingers unbuttoning his cuffs, rolling his sleeves halfway up his forearms before he could get out a word of protest.

"Fuji!"

"You're dressed too formally for this place, Tezuka. You need to loosen up." Fuji murmured, undoing the first two buttons on his shirt and tugging his collar up.

"Fuji, I am capable of unbuttoning my own clothing."

"Yes, but you wouldn't have," Fuji replied. "Besides," he continued, smirking impishly. "You know you liked it."

"_FUJI!_"

Fuji ignored him. "See, now isn't this nice, Tezuka?" he beamed, wrapping his arms around Tezuka's neck, and pulling him closer until their bodies were touching. Tezuka felt a faint flush creeping onto his cheeks, which he hoped was invisible in the dim light. And had Fuji always been this short? He'd known the tensai was shorter than him, but the height difference was much more drastic with Fuji pressed against him. "Now put your hands on my hips... My _hips_, Tezuka, not halfway up my back... That's my waist. Lower."

"This is fine, Fuji."

Fuji pouted a moment before suddenly standing very straight, causing Tezuka's hands to slide down a few more inches. He must have been crouching slightly before, because he was about the height Tezuka'd thought he was now. Tezuka felt his flush deepen as he realized where his hands would be if he'd put them on Fuji's hips in the first place.

Admittedly, he felt a bit better about the whole affair once he realized that Fuji was blushing too.

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"Oishi, look! Fuji's here! He's the one that told me to come here!"

Oishi stifled a sigh. He should have known Fuji was somehow involved. "Did you want to go say hello?" he asked.

"Nah, he's _dancing_. With _buchou_. And look how close they're dancing! In a few years they'll be _married_, nya, and they'll be asking us to baby-sit their spawn."

"Eiji!" Oishi gasped, aghast. "You know Fuji can't have children!"

Eiji looked him in the eye, dead serious. "Fuji can do _anything_."

* * *

**Notes:** And the reappearance of the Golden Pair would also not exist without Fated, although for different reasons. We were talking about how cool the word "spawn" was while I was writing this, and I randomly offered to include it in the fic, and she accepted. So yes, that whole last section was just for an opportunity to use the word "spawn."

And these last two chapters have rather deviated from the point of this fic. Back on topic in the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5: MomoRyo & Shinjou bartending

**Author's Notes:** I was going to wait until tomorrow (well, since I've stayed up so late, that would technically be "later today") to post this because I was too lazy to write author's notes, but I'm in a really good mood at the moment because I mentioned to Fated how much I loved Fuji crossdressing and she drew me a picture of it! -SQUEAL- -HAPPY DANCE-

* * *

"Echi_zen_, don't tell me you dragged me all the way here just for the Ponta!"

"Quiet, Momo-senpai. Let me savor this moment."

"If I knew you wanted Ponta so badly, I would have bought you some at the vending machine! I would have!"

"It's different."

Momo had to admit, it was different. Watching the tall Jyousei player pour cherry and peach Ponta into a metal container, shake it vigorously (weren't you _not_ supposed to shake soft drinks?), pour it into a cup and hand it to a patron before the foam reached the top was _interesting_, certainly, but was Ryoma really so obsessed with Ponta that he'd come all the way here just to see it?

He got his answer as Ryoma stepped up to the counter and looked over the cans of Ponta like a miner who'd just struck gold. The player behind the counter ('My Name is: Shinjou' from the nametag) straightened further, if that was possible, and cleared his throat.

"Three parts grape, one part peach, with a single ice cube, stirred not shaken," Ryoma said. Momo simply gawked. Shinjou nodded and began to prepare the drink, Ryoma making commentary. "Oh, from the limited edition pull-tab offer? That's after they changed the coating of the can and switched to red # 40, but before they went from yellow # 5 to # 6 and added the extra gram of sugar…one of my favorite vintages." Momo gawked more.

Shinjou handed Ryoma the drink, Ryoma holding it up to the light to observe the color, then sniffing it and taking a small sip. He swished it around in his mouth a few seconds before swallowing. Momo gawked.

"Not bad," Ryoma said, smirking. "Do I get a discount because I beat you?"

"No."

"Che. You order something, Momo-senpai."

Momo nodded wordlessly, stepping up to the counter. "Um…peach?"

* * *

**Notes:** I actually did research on dye numbers, (because I'm just _that _sad) so yes, those are real numbers, and yes, there's a reason they would have switched from yellow 5 to yellow 6. I guess that Ryoma preferred the sharper tang of yellow 5, though, poor dear.

…Yes, I realize yellow 5 is probably tasteless. It's called artistic license, dammit.


	6. Chapter 6: Inui

**Author's Notes:** This chapter hasn't been betaed yet, but my DSL's been out all day, so I figured I might as well get it up while I had the chance. Once Fated gets on to beta it, I'll probably edit it some.

Please note that I cannot write Inui. One of the things that I _don't_ think I got wrong about his character is that he does not use any percentages in this fic. People always seem to write his every line as a percent, but as far as I recall, the only time in the series he used a percent outside of sports was in the chibi ep where he and Yanagi were talking about women shopping. So, that's why I didn't use any.

…I still don't think I can write Inui.

* * *

Inui Sadaharu had just gotten a new notebook.

This was quite a frequent occurrence, enough so that the factory knew to deliver a crate of the things to the Inui residence every six months. However, this time something had gone wrong in the shipping process, and the delivery had been a week late. Then, his mother had taken his spare book to write her shopping lists in, and so Inui had been reduced to scribbling his data in the margins of various notebooks in a disgustingly unorganized fashion that had taken him nearly half a day to sort through once the shipment finally came in.

He wouldn't have minded so much if his mother hadn't refused to include a large fish tank on her shopping list unless he was going to keep fish in it, even after he pointed out that if she was using his notebook, he ought to get more of a say in what she bought. So he was still reduced to importing those exotic beetles from Sri Lanka. Alas.

But he had a fresh crate of notebooks now, and after he'd copied all the notes scrawled in margins into their own book, he was out and about, once again, with a crisp new notebook in hand.

He'd heard something about Jyousei Shounan running an odd fundraiser, so that was where he was headed. Data on rivals always came in handy, even if Seigaku had already beaten them. He paused outside the door, opening the book to the first page.

_Bouncer: Kiriyama Daichi. Numerous bandages on arms, presumably from small injuries. May have part-time job frying tempura?_

Inui was admitted, looked around—and nearly passed out in ecstasy from the plethora of data just _waiting_ to be recorded. Data on rivals, he had at least expected…but how could he have anticipated data on _Fuji and Tezuka?_ Not to mention the Golden Pair, but…_Fuji and Tezuka._ Echizen and Momo as well, but…_Fuji and Tezuka_.

_Echizen: Easily bribed by Ponta._

_Momoshiro: Exploits this to get Echizen on dance floor._

The intricacies of this relationship gave him several pages of data, and he got nearly double that on the Golden Pair, and the same amount on Jyousei. And now…_Fuji and Tezuka._ Page after glorious page of data…page after page after page after page after—oh dear.

Inui Sadaharu needed a new notebook.

* * *

If you didn't get the thing about tempura, you deep-fry it, and the oil splatters. I have a burn on my hand from making tempura, which is the main reason for that line.

…I think this fic is at least halfway done! -rejoices-


	7. Chapter 7: Nanjiroh

**Author's Notes:** Unlike the last chapter, I am quite pleased with this one. My beta didn't know what a salaryman was, so I realized I should probably have put something in the author's notes… anyways, it's a Japanese term, for a business man. They usually work really long hours and get drunk on the way home…

Anyways, hope you all like it!

* * *

Echizen Nanjiroh adjusted his mask, feeling immensely pleased with himself. He would never be recognized in this getup, not in a thousand years. With his identity safely concealed, he would have a leisurely evening to ogle full-chested ladies of pleasure as he wished. Nothing could stop him now. Nothing at all…

Except, perhaps, a massive, smiley-face coated arm shooting out in front of his chest just as he prepared to enter the door.

"What?" he demanded of the heavily muscled bouncer who was restraining him with a single large hand.

"Old perverts are not permitted, sir," replied the bouncer, sounding rehearsed.

"_Old pervert?_ I'm not even forty!" Nanjiroh cried, affronted.

"Yes. Old perverts are not permitted," stated the bouncer, picking Nanjiroh up by the back of his robe and tossing him to the side, where he landed on top of a rather large pile of unconscious red-faced salarymen.

Nanjiroh, however, was not to be deterred so easily from his prize.

Tugging his mask up, he crept back up to the door, attempting to sneak in under the bouncer's gaily decorated arm. Alas, however, he was detained once again.

"Old perverts are not permitted, sir," said the bouncer, in the exact same tone as the last time.

"Old pervert?" Nanjiroh squawked, attempting to disguise his voice. "I'm not an old pervert! I'm…selling juice! Yes! Just an innocent juice-seller!"

"Oh. Okay then, go in," the bouncer said.

…Hey, nobody ever said Kiriyama was intelligent.

In the meantime, Nanjiroh surveyed the room, widening his eyes as much as possible to best drink in the oasis of delights it had to offer.

…Which seemed to be rather dry. The dancers up on stage were rather young-looking for his tastes, and quite flat-chested… but they were cute, and looked like twins. Everybody loved twins. Especially female ones.

But…wait a minute, looking closer…those _weren't_ female twins, were they? Nanjiroh was a man of many talents, and female-ogling was one of the first and foremost. Nanjiroh was excellent at recognizing a feminine specimen, and those up on stage most definitely…_weren't. _In fact, he was pretty sure he'd seen their pictures in Tennis Monthly…

He let loose a strangled scream, attracting the attention of the only other person in the club who appeared to be watching the dancers.

Now _that _was a fine specimen of womanhood. A specimen…for a _special man,_ and Nanjiroh chuckled at his own pun, not realizing that if he had said it aloud, a certain teenager currently in Chiba would have found himself inexplicably drawn towards Tokyo, as if by gravity, unable to break from the pull until his foot had connected with the monk's head.

…That would have been really weird, so it's probably a good thing Nanjiroh didn't say it aloud.

And now, back to the vision of loveliness, clad in a delectable miniskirt, a strip of cloth barely containing her ripe busom. How he would love to harvest those engorged—

_(To prevent our readers from being further traumatized by Nanjiroh's train of thought, we will now fast-forward to the part where he realizes Hanamura is talking to him.)_

_(Several minutes and much flowery, perverted mental prose later—)_

—those full cherry lips were moving, sensual strokes caressing words of passion…words? Oh, yes, words! He snapped out of his daze, giving her voice his full attention…or at least some measure of it.

"Do you hear me? I said do you hear me! How did you get in here? I specifically told Kiriyama he was only to allow cute young boys! Now leave, before I lose my temper!"

…_Young…boys? _This full flower of feminine desire was a _pedophile?_ No, surely he must have misheard… he searched desperately around the room, looking for something…_anything_, to belie the statement…

He saw only a remarkable number of underage, boy-boy couples on the dance floor, several of whom he recognized from articles in Tennis Monthly as Jr. High tennis players in the area… Tennis players against whom his son might have played…

And those two, weren't they from his son's school? He'd transfer Ryoma, he had to, before he was corrupted by those perverts…except that there seemed to be representatives from the tennis team of every major school in the area. What would his son do? His son would be corrupted! His son would not grow up to follow his magazine-leering ways! His son…was right over there…

Right over there, finishing a dance with that boy from his team. _**NOOO!** _He was too late! His son was already corrupted! Where had he gone wrong? He'd wanted to introduce the boy to magazines sooner, but his wife has clobbered him quite soundly when he suggested it at the age of ten…he shouldn't have listened to her mighty fist! He should have defied, and he would not be standing here right now! Well… he probably would. _BUT HIS SON WOULD BE STANDING BESIDE HIM. _Beside him, searching for females _with_ him, not in the arms of some stranger, saying something not meant for him…wait…saying something…

"All right, I danced with you. Now buy me Ponta."

**_NOOOOO! _**His son wasn't just corrupted, his son…his son was…_A PONTA WHORE! _He should have snatched that foul drink from his son's hands the first time he saw him with it! But even then, the addiction might have already set in! He should never have given him pocket change to nourish his dependency! _WHERE HAD HE GONE WRONG?_

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"I told you to get out!" Hanamura screamed. "Reiji! Make this man leave! I give you permission to use _it!_"

Shinjou nodded, picking up an empty can of Ponta. "_DEEEEP…IMPULSE!_" he yelled, crossing his arms and flinging the can at Nanjiroh. He would traumatize this man…he would traumatize him until he would never want to enter a strip club again…

Little did Shinjou know, Nanjiroh was already quite sufficiently traumatized, and would gladly have run home screaming if he was capable of finding the exit in his current state. _WHERE HAD HE GONE WRONG?_

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"Echizen, look, it's that crazy monk! Why do you think he's freaking out?"

Ryoma looked over, and paled slightly, quickly averting his gaze. "No clue. Now buy me Ponta."

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**Note:** I think there's only 3 more chapters of this thing left! Yay! 


	8. Chapter 8: Sengoku

**Author's Notes:** Wow! I'm not dead! There was merely the commencement of that evil known as School, and the not-getting-done of the chapter was not helped by the fact that Sengoku is the character I like the least and find hardest to write out of everyone with their own chapter thus far.

Betaed by Fatedtofall, who rules all things.

* * *

Sengoku Kiyosumi was too young to get into a strip club. He knew this, and he certainly didn't have a fake ID, or anything that might make him appear older than he was. A normal person might have been discouraged by this, and refrained from trying in the first place.

However, Sengoku strode up to the door confidently, certain that some stroke of enormous luck would befall him and he would sneak in past the bouncer or be overlooked in a crowd or _something_. What he was certainly not expecting was to be given a long, examining glance, and waved in by a bouncer who looked vaguely familiar in the tennis sense.

Ah well, the powers of his luck were not his to question. He entered the club, waiting impatiently for his eyes to adjust to the flashing lights. Waiting…waiting…

—Was that Seigaku's Momoshiro? Yes, it was! Now he had someone to watch the show with! Lucky!

…Wait, Momoshiro was _dancing._ With…someone Sengoku couldn't see from where he was standing. But there were _girls_ here? Sengoku never would have guessed girls would come to a strip club, but there must be! With his luck, one would ask him to dance in seconds!

3…2…1…no. Shy, was she? He scanned to floor for a girl with her eyes adorably fixed on him, one who would jump and whip her head around, cheeks burning, once he met her gaze…

He didn't see her. In fact, he didn't see any girls at all. Plenty of couples dancing, but no sign of girls. (He thought he saw one for a second, but it turned out to be Seigaku's Fuji-kun.)

Odd, really, having a bunch of gay couples in a strip club, but Sengoku didn't think much of it. He turned his attention to the stage, where there _were_ girls. Twin girls! Wait, no they weren't…girls, that is. Definitely twins. Not girls. Or were they? Yes. Wait, no. No, yes. No, no. Yes…no…

He finally decided that he didn't really care either way, and sat down to watch the show.

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ONLY TWO MORE CHAPTERS! ONLY TWO MORE CHAPTERS! –wriggles excitedly- 


End file.
